This entry has been quite difficult. I seemed to have hit a downward drop in my mood cycle. This drop most likely caused by loss of my pet. Part of me feels like I am being over dramatic, she was only a cat. Then I remember she traveled with me to this state and I had her for 13 years. Thirteen years! That is a long time. I miss the comfort of her breathing. I came to this state with two cats, a dog and a man. The only two left alive in that group is me and the dog. The dog lives back in California now with the man's sister. I am left alone here in Arizona. That feels dishonest, I am not alone. I have managed to build myself an amazing support group and I am blessed to have found so many wonderful friends. But they are Arizona contacts, our relationships have Arizona roots. My California roots used to be intertwined with four other beings, and now it is just mine. They feel so thin and bare; so very singular.
I was thinking of my brain attic again. I have discovered a window that looks upon my past. Above this window there is a shelf and on this shelf are rows and rows of Whim Dolls. From the tiny doll that represents me when born, to the current typical doll size doll with razor cut hair, piercings and tattoos that show me now. Each doll is a lesson. Each doll is an Whim That Was. I look at their faces and see the cracks and bandages. See the scratches and dents. Know that while they are all broken in someway, it was to grow, to learn, to change, to move up into the next doll. I step along the shelf, shuffle my feet to the left following my own years down the row. I come to the last doll. The Whim That Was that I currently miss the most. The Whim that existed before the great years of grief. She hasn't existed since 2012, but still I gaze into her eyes and try to remember what it felt like to live in that head. When I try to find the current doll for the Whim That Is, I find myself staring into a mirror. I wonder what change will come and what will I look like next to myself?